


Are We Dead Yet?

by stayhighwzouis (1DFanatic91)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Best Friends, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sex, F/M, Frenemies, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Loss of Parent(s), Lovers, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character Death, Minor Character Death, OT5 Friendship, Oral Sex, Semi explicit depiction of injuries and wounds, Sex, Swearing, Trauma, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 03:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19939459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1DFanatic91/pseuds/stayhighwzouis
Summary: It’s 3 months into the Zombie Apocalypse and we follow the lives of 5 groups of people.There is one goal and it’s simple - Staying Alive.Of course that is easier said than done especially when the threat has never been the dead - but the living.





	1. Harry

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> Thanks for checking this out! This is my third attempt at writing and I hope this is the best one yet! Please like and comment - I love to hear your thoughts and opinions on the characters as the story develops! :)
> 
> There will be different POV with every chapter!

_Death. It surrounds us. The word alone can bring devastation. Death can be seen everywhere if you look close enough; in books, video games, nature, it is a cycle - a part of this world. There is an even darker side to death - the type that is used for entertainment, to satisfy one's bloodlust, bringing joy when finally killing the criminal in that blasted game. At least that's how it used to be, Death now consumes us, once we start we cannot stop, once we feel the euphoria we are captured in that feeling wanting more and more…_

“What are you writing now?” Louis asks with an exaggerated sigh at the end.

Harry looks up fast enough to catch Louis rolling his eyes. “Louis, you know it calms me,” Harry drones.

Louis chuckles halfheartedly. “You just always seem really into it that’s all; one of those dirty books is it?” he asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively, licking his lips.

Harry shakes his head, now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “You know what it is, Lou.”

He closes his leather bound book and hugs it to his chest. “Who writes a diary when the world has stopped, people have stopped living, what is there even to write about?” Louis starts pacing, like he always does when he's anxious.

The look on his face is harsh and Harry hasn't really seen a different face since the day of the apocalypse three months ago. Harry gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on, and places his book onto it. They are at their makeshift camp. They’ve been here for two days. They need to make a move soon. It’s a bad idea to stay in the same place for too long, especially when they are out in the open like this.

Harry walks behind Louis, touching his shoulder but he flinches away, raising his hand above both of their heads into a fist, ready to fight. An automatic reaction now.

Harry gasps as Louis’ eyes widen, lowering his hand, a frown appearing on his face, “Sorry babe.”

He slows his movements, stepping in front of Louis, a small smile on his face. Reaching out with both arms, he reassures him. “It’s just me, Lou.”

Slowly wrapping them around Louis, he can feel the tension leaving throughout the hug. Louis has never been the same since the apocalypse hit, of course Harry understood, both of their families are dead, as well as all of their friends. Everyday is just another fight for their lives hoping that they will both have a tomorrow.

Harry is pretty sure that Louis hasn't had a good night's sleep either, always on edge, waiting for the infected to attack them. Louis has taken it upon himself to be their protector and Harry doesn't mind. He has always been the one with some knowledge of survival skills, making camps, building fires and such.

Louis is a natural born leader. He takes such good care of Harry, never stopping, the stress is constantly clear on his face, the wrinkles on his forehead - he’s aging before his time and it’s really sad for Harry to see. Harry moves his hands from Louis’ back up his neck and round to his face, the pads of his thumbs running lightly over Louis’ cheeks, moving down to his lips.

Harry loves watching Louis, just looking at him, he’s his home. Louis looks at Harry and for a split second Harry sees the old Louis, the one with no worries or cares in the world. They both lean forward, both cherishing human contact when they can get it.

Their lips, warm against each other, familiar. In this world of change, Louis’ lips stay the same. They break away from their kiss and rest their foreheads against each other, both sighing in unison. Louis lifts his head first, leans forward to kiss Harry’s nose before having a look at their camp, checking if they’re still okay.

Harry walks back over to his stump to pick up his diary, placing it in his rucksack. He grabs a stick he finds on the ground, poking at their miniscule fire which is barely lit, let alone keeping them warm.

He sighs inwardly, grabbing some leaves which he chucks on the pitiful flame, trying to keep it going, “Ah-ow!”

He flinches away from the fire and drops the remainder of his stick, blowing on his hand.

“What did you do now?” Louis asks, his tone accusing.

He grabs Harry’s hand and examines it. “I was only trying to make myself useful.” “Yeah, clearly,” Louis scoffs. “You’ll be fine.”

“Wow, where did they teach you that A* bedside manner?” Harry retorts.

“Probably at the same place where they taught you that you shouldn't poke the fire with something that burns easily,” Louis replies in the same sarcastic tone.

“Well, meh-meh meh.” Harry screws his face up and sticks his tongue out.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Louis chuckles and kisses Harry’s hand.

“Do you want a bandage or anything?” Harry shakes his head and sits down on his temporary seat, taking in the scenery around him.

*****

Los Angeles, California. On the outskirts of Pasadena, in the national forest, according to Harry’s map. They have been walking for days trying to get there. Louis insists that they need to get to higher ground so they will be able to spot the zombies earlier.

Harry likes looking at the trees, the national park is beautiful, he has never been to this part of town before and he didn't think this would be the way he would get to see it. Both Louis’ and Harry’s families moved to LA three years ago.

They met because their dads worked for the same company and they had a promotion so the families had to move. Definitely a big change for them both, having never really left their small hometowns and being suddenly placed into a buzzing state - a definite more glamorous lifestyle than what they were used to.

Both adjusted quite well, moving to Beverly Hills, into huge mansion-esque houses and lucky to find one on the same street. As soon as they were settled in, Louis looked for a job and Harry applied for college. Harry got into UCLA as a medical student, now currently in his third year and Louis got the job as a lecturer in Sports Science.

But that world isn’t real anymore, it seemed like a lifetime away.

Harry wouldn’t ever have to worry again about not revising enough for his medical exams or turning up on time for his placements. He has different things to worry about, such as Louis tiring himself out from all of his pacing, which he has been doing for some time now.

It is starting to get dark, which is when Louis is the most on edge. “Lou,” Harry calls, but Louis can’t hear.

“Lou, do you miss not teaching your students? I know it seems like a stupid question, but I know how stressed you got with all the prep work and you could...Lou are you even listening to me? Louis... Louis!”, he snaps, which stops Louis in his tracks.

He looks at Harry.

“So-sorry babe, I’m just trying to figure out what we should do next. Where do we go? What do we do? What if we run into the dead or worse...actual people a-a-and..”

Harry can see that Louis is working himself into a tizzy. “Hey, hey, hey.”

He grabs his boyfriend's shoulders. “We are together, we are safe, and we are going to be okay because I’ll look after you and you’ll look after me. We are a team, always have been and always will be. We will fight these demons together and we’ll get through this.”

Harry’s speech is over and he can feel the tension leaving Louis with every word.

Louis nods. “You’re right, Harry. Of course, you are right, or else we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

He rests his head on Harry’s chest and breathes deeply.

“Thank you…for not giving up on me.” Harry simply wraps his arms around his boyfriend.

“Anytime.”

*****

The next morning, Harry rolls over on the tarpaulin sheet and groggily reaches out to Louis. He moves his hand but there’s no one there.

Hastily opening his eyes, they dart around, “Lou!” he half whispers, half shouts.

He sits up quickly, way too quickly, and his head hurts. Cradling his head in one of his hands, he tries to remain calm. Deep breath in, deep breath out, he thinks to himself.

It doesn’t work.

Harry could feel his heart rate increasing and his palms sweating. Where is Louis? He looks around again; he didn’t realise how exposed they are out here.

People and monsters would be able to come from all angles. There are small spots in his vision, his migraine is getting worse. Trying to ignore them, he seeks his boyfriend.

He stays seated on the sheet, as to not make any noise. Should he go after Louis? It's becoming increasingly difficult to not shout out his name, so he does the only thing he can do.

He cries.

He tries to muffle the sounds against his sleeve, “I don’t know what to do,'' he whimpers to himself.

Why would Louis leave him like this? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries to take deep breaths. He can feel the pressure on his forehead - he needs to calm down.

He lies back down in the fetal position and wraps his arms around himself.

His cries becoming louder.

Then he hears a thud in the distance and footsteps coming towards him. Before Harry realises that he should not leave himself so exposed, hands grab at his shoulder.

“Harry? Harry! Can you hear me? What’s wrong? Louis asks and Harry can see the fear in his eyes.

“I couldn’t see you, I thought you’d…I couldn’t see you,” Harry sniffles and rubs his nose against his sleeve.

“I didn’t know you would leave.”

Louis gently wipes the pads of his thumbs under Harry’s eyes, “I just went to get some wood for the fire, I thought I would have been back by the time you had woken up.”

Louis leans forward and places a peck first on Harry’s mouth and then his nose, which earns a small smile from Harry.

“How’s your head?” Louis asks, placing the back of his hand flat across Harry’s forehead.

“Is your migraine flaring up again?” Harry nods.

“All the pressure is right here.” He points to the space between his eyes.

Louis sighs, “We need to find you some medicine.”

He gives his boyfriend one last peck on his forehead.

“Next time I’ll tell you where I’m going.” Louis opens his arms and Harry falls into him, placing his head on his boyfriend's chest, “I thought you were gone,” he whispers.

“I will never leave you, Harry, ever,” Louis reassures.


	2. Liam

Walking, that’s all he fucking does. Walk everywhere, but what else is there to do? This whole planet has gone to shit. No one knows why or how, because they are all fucking dead, undead, or whatever they are.

They are not human anymore. 

“I’m in the middle of Hollywood, and there is nothing TO FUCKING DO” Liam screams as he punches the nearest window, which tears the skin of his knuckles. He winces and looks down at the wound.

“Fuck.” He shakes his hand. 

He curses himself, he knows he shouldn’t make so much noise, but he can’t help it. He is angry. 

He closes his eyes and lets the feeling take over, he likes the bleeding, the feeling of pain, it's the subtle reminder that he is still human. 

It’s what keeps him going - he will never be one of those things, ever.

He finds a chair outside an old cafe and gives a small smile - how very European - and he loves it. It reminds him of when he used to live back in England. 

Back home. 

He wonders if they have the undead there too, it can’t be just us can it? Can it? Can it just be America that has been hit? 

Whatever this is, however it happened. It doesn't matter, he has already mourned the death of his mother, his father, his sisters. He has come to terms with the fact that they are dead back at home. 

When he last saw them, a couple of months ago, he and his sister, Ruth, didn't leave on good terms. He regrets that now. Looking up to the sky, he has tears in his eyes.

“Hope you guys are okay up there,” he smiles. “I'm sure I'll see you guys soon anyway.”

He sighs and looks into his bag, trying to find something that he can bandage his hand with. He shouldn’t have let his emotions take over, because now he has to waste supplies for something that could have been easily avoided.

He reprimands himself and promises himself that he will try his hardest not to do it again. 

He adds a little drop or two of the rubbing alcohol he keeps with him to clean the wound and winces at the pain.

“Definitely not worth it,” he mumbles to himself.

He would rather drink his water of which he is running dangerously low. Of all the ways to go, he doesn't fancy dying of thirst and makes a mental note that he needs to find some more. 

Hollywood is not exactly an abundance of fresh clean water; maybe the forest? 

The National Forest shouldn’t be too far, and it would definitely be a change of scenery. 

He roots around some more and actually finds some bandage which he can use. He smiles victoriously; he actually forgot he had this. As he is finishing up dressing his wound, he hears a groan in the distance.

He sighs, “Come on then, you fuckers,” he mutters.

He looks up and yes, there they are, the fucking beasts of the world - there are only four of them; for now at least. 

He puts away his supplies and takes out his pocket knife, zips his bag shut, making sure it's secure and swings it around onto his shoulder. He walks toward them, they are certainly odd. 

They shuffle forward with purpose trying to get to their target, almost looking like they’re falling, they’re all off balance. Just following each other like sheep. No mind of their own. Liam will definitely not become one. 

He reaches the first one and strikes it through the head, right between its eyes. He pulls his knife out and it slumps to the floor. He gets to the second one and repeats the same action with practiced ease, this is almost routine for him now.

He puts down the third and fourth ones in the same way. They are now in a heap on the floor. It's hard to remember that they were people once, living their lives, they never asked for this, no one did. 

He inspects his knife, and then proceeds to wipe it on the cuff of his jacket, cleaning it of the black and red gunge, and then placing it carefully back into his leather pouch that is connected to his trousers. He continues to walk for what seems like ages but only really covers about two miles. 

He needs a plan, somewhere to go - he needs to find shelter and fast. He can’t just be walking in the open, especially with so many of the dead walking around. He needs to find a safe place.

Liam looks around, he sees a line of houses and heads towards them. He’ll need to top up on supplies. He creeps up to the first house and slowly walks around to the window. 

He cups his hands around his face and peers through to see if the coast is clear, tapping against the window, just loud enough for anything inside to hear. 

He waits a couple of heartbeats but nothing comes. 

He walks back round to the front door and opens it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Creeping in, he shuts the door silently. 

Walking through the first room - the living room - he sees pictures still in their frames, blankets on the furniture, nothing had been disturbed in this house, this is ...creepy.

He doesn't think that people still live here but it puts him slightly on edge. He makes his way round the house and finds the kitchen with a small sigh of relief, there is still no sign of anyone in the house. 

He puts his bag on the table and starts rooting through the cabinets trying to find anything that would be useful. He finds a few tins of Alphabets, peaches and baked beans. 

Looking through the other cupboards, he finds rubbing alcohol, a few plasters, bandages and a small knife. 

This is the best raid he’s had in a while. Liam counts his blessings that it’s only himself that he has to worry about. He prefers it like that. 

Packing his loot into the bag, he does another quick sweep through to see if he could use anything else, when a noise stopped him. 

“Come on, now. We can relax here.”

He looks outside.

“Oh shit,” he mutters, watching as two people walk towards the house. 

He needs to leave and fast. He grabs his bag with his new supplies and quietly tries to find a way into the back garden. 

Luckily the back door is open. He closes it softly behind him and ducks beneath the window where he can hear the voices from inside. He needs to control this breathing. 

“Someone’s been here,” he hears a gruff voice say and Liam’s heart beats faster. 

He crawls under the window and across the garden where he sees a gate. He scuttles across and unlatches the lock, crawling onto the other side where he sits behind the wall and out of sight. 

The voices are quieter now which is a good thing, and he releases a deep breath, surprised at how much he is panting and sweating. 

Liam tries to regulate his breathing again, places his hand on his chest and takes long, deep breaths. He crawls along the side of the wall, just to be sure that no one can see him, and then starts running in the opposite direction. 

He heads towards the forest, he needs peace and quiet. Hopefully there’s not much of a chance of running into people. 

Is there? 


End file.
